


At The Edge Of Darkness

by JuweWright



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuweWright/pseuds/JuweWright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not yet sure where this is going. As of yet, we follow Aragorn and Legolas from the council of Elrond on... friendship fic although some might read it as pre-slash. More characters to follow in the list. Each chapter comes with a song.</p><p>Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Tolkien does. This is for entertainment purposes only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At The Edge Of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Song Lyrics: Where Do We Draw the Line  
> by: Poets of the Fall

_What does tomorrow want with me_  
 _What does it matter what I see_  
 _If it can't be my design_  
 _Tell me where do we draw the line_  
  
Legolas could not help but notice Aragorn had changed since they had last met. He had met the heir of Gondor a couple of times since a child going by the name of Estel had run through the woods of Rivendell causing enough noise to scare off all the birds. There wasn't much left of the child now. Nor was there much left of the young man whom he had met years afterwards when he had been a guest in Lothlorien. That young man had already known about the burden he was carrying, about the fate that awaited him, but had still seen it as an honour rather than anything else.  
  
Legolas had been witness to the love of Arwen and this mortal. He had been one of the few she had confided in. Back then he had not liked the thought of her giving up immortality to be with the human, be he king of Gondor and Arnor or just the ranger he disguised himself as. Mankind had never held much interest for the elf. They were born, they grew up and before they learned anything about the ways of the world, they died again. At least that had been the way he had been brought up to think by his father Thranduil who did not think much of any man. But the times were changing. The elves were fading and leaving Middle Earth. They would never return and their age was over. The age of men was dawning and Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was supposed to lead them.  
  
Legolas had to admit that, perhaps, this human was different from the others he had met. The time had left traces in the face of the ranger but also in his eyes and the elf could tell that there was more wisdom and more grief in this man than he had ever beheld in any of his kind before. The blood of Numenor ran through his veins and he still looked young although his years were many. He wore a mixture of garments, most of them made by the clumsy hands of people up north but complemented by a fine shirt that had been made by elves. His posture was upright and the way he casually let his hand rest on the hilt of is sword betrayed how fierce a warrior he was.  
  
“Mae Govannen, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood”, he said with a slight bow as soon as Legolas had unmounted his horse. “You come at the right time for the council of Elrond. There will be many news. Mithrandir arrived here with ill tidings as has a couple of dwarfs and Boromir of Gondor the son of Lord Denethor.”  
  
Legolas nodded.  
  
“I also come with news that might not be appreciated by Lord Elrond”, he answered in Elvish knowing that Aragorn, who had been raised in Rivendell with Elrond as his foster father, spoke the tongue fluently.  
  
Aragorn sighed.  
  
“I feared as much. But let's not speak of it yet. You will have to tell your tale to the whole council. Our gathering will be any day now. We are waiting for the Halfling to recover from his wound. He was stabbed by the Nazgul at weather top and I fear his wound will linger and he will never fully recover.”  
  
Legolas looked up.  
  
“So it is true. You came here with a group of Hobbits from the strange land they call the Shire. And you had to fight the Black Riders, the servants of Mordor. These are grave tidings indeed. I heard some tales on my way here but I was not sure how much truth was in them.”  
  
Aragorn stepped up the stairs to one of the hallways that led into the main house.  
  
“More than you will believe, Legolas. These are strange times and there are strange things happening. So. There we are. I guess you know your way to the chambers Elrond usually has prepared for the guests? I will let someone know you have arrived. Now I will leave you to rest a little and to see whether my charge has woken up yet.”  
  
In the shadow of the hallway, Legolas noticed the grey shadows beneath the man's eyes. Mankind needed much more sleep than elves did and this particular man looked as if he needed it very badly indeed. To his own surprise, Legolas noticed that he was worried about Aragorn. Although he was friendly and composed and seemed at ease to the passing eye, he seemed weary, tired and exhausted to one whose gaze lingered for a while.  
  
The heir of Elendil seemed to notice the elves inquiring look and smiled apologetically.  
  
“Me and Elrond have done our best to heal the Halfling. I haven't slept in days and I have faced a hoard of Black Riders last week. I am probably a ghastly sight to behold.”  
  
Legolas smirked slightly, thinking that he might actually come to like this human. He seemed to have a sense of humour.  
  
***  
  
Aragorn for his part thought that it was weird that the elf whom he remembered from his childhood days did not look a single day older than when he had last met him. The long lives of the Eldar always made him uneasy. Back in the days he had sworn to follow his path as future King of Gondor so he could be worthy of Arwen Evenstar, fairest of her kind. And Arwen was ready to become mortal for him, to live out her days and die for their love. He knew the sacrifice he asked of her and never had he dared to dream he could ever win her heart. Elrond still looked on their love with a raised brow but he had bowed to the will of his beloved daughter and promised Aragorn her hand if he was to become King of Gondor and Arnor. Back then, Aragorn had not known that there would be obstacles in his path so great he could only despair. And hardly had he known what destiny lay before him. He had beheld the ring and he had not touched it. But he knew of the weakness of Isildur. The broken sword that was displayed in one of the hallways in the house of Elrond and the mural depicting the final battle always reminded him of the curse of his ancestors. The ring that Frodo was carrying now, the ring that had almost cost that poor Hobbit his life and that was the last thing Sauron needed to rule with cruel force and let the darkness fall onto all of Middle Earth, that ring was Isildur's bane.  
  
He looked after the wounded Hobbit to find him awake and in the company of Gandalf. For a few precious moments the happiness of Sam, Pippin and Merry to see their friend awake and healthy was enough to make the heir of Gondor forget his burden. But when he returned to his chambers and tried to retire, sleep would not come to him. Instead there came the doubts and the fears that haunted his mind nowadays.  
  
He got up again, knowing there would be no rest for him tonight although it was desperately needed. He walked up to the place where the shards of Narsil were displayed. The moon fell through one of the windows and the silver light was reflected by the blade. Aragorn knew that the edges of that blade were still sharp. It had been preserved from decay and time, to be reforged again one day. As he had done so many times before, he stood and looked down on it. It was a huge sword, bigger than most of the Elvish blades he had used in his life. His fingertips touched the hilt of the weapon.  
  
A small noise made him pull his hand back. But it was only Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, who stepped from the shadows.  
  
“I'm sorry”, the elf said. “I tried to make some more noise when approaching, but it seems like we elves are just ridiculously bad at that.”  
  
Aragorn shrugged.  
  
“I lived in these halls for the first twenty years of my life, Legolas Greenleaf. I can't be frightened by anyone approaching without a sound. They all tend to do it here.”  
  
Legolas came up to him and also looked down at the sword.  
  
“I remember you didn't do it when we first met. You were the loudest thing that ever walked these halls, Estel.”  
  
The heir of Elendil smiled when the elf used his old nickname. For a while they stood next to each other, each lost in his own thoughts. Then Aragorn spoke again.  
  
“Do you know what my mother said, before she died? I gave all hope to men, I left none for myself.”  
  
He sighed and sat down on the stone steps.  
  
“I only wish her hope will be enough.”  
  
He closed his eyes. He could feel the elf shift next to him and the next moment Legolas' cool hand touched his shoulder as the son of Thranduil knelt next to him.  
  
“You are not Isildur. Never think that his fate is doomed to be repeated in your own. I know it's a huge burden that lies on your shoulders although I don't understand all of it yet. But you must not despair”  
  
The elf took a deep breath and took hold of Aragorn's hands. His fingers were long and thin and looked fragile. The fingers of an artist rather than a fighter one would have thought. But Aragorn knew Legolas was one of the best archers in Mirkwood who had already fought many battles.  
  
“If you should choose to wield that sword, if you will go into battle and fight for the good in this world to redeem the failure of your forefathers, I just want you to know that you have a friend by your side”, the elf said his eyes fixed on the heir of Gondor.


End file.
